


Talk Me Through It

by phaetonschariot



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dream Sex, Fantasy, M/M, Morning Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:06:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8492650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phaetonschariot/pseuds/phaetonschariot
Summary: Sam might be a war veteran with PTSD, but not all his dreams are bad. Steve is keen to encourage dwelling.





	

Sam wakes up all at once - sleeping, sleeping, then the next moment he's lying in bed pressed up against Steve with a raging hard-on. He must make some movement or noise, because almost straight away he can feel Steve's muscles flex and shift as he turns his head to look at him. "Good dream?" His voice is low and rough like he's just as turned on as Sam is; it sends a frisson of heat down his body to settle in the pit of his stomach even as the words dredge images up that he'd already been starting to forget. 

"Good," he repeats, then, " _yeah._ " He emphasises it with a roll of his hips, rubbing his erection against the top of Steve's thigh, then does it again just because of how it feels. Enough to make him pant a little bit. It's definitely not his usual morning wood, it's beyond that, more insistent, and when Steve rolls to face him and presses in closer he's pleased to note that he's not the only one. He wonders, idly, what other hints he'd been giving as to what kind of dream he was having. Sounds? Mumbled words? Sleepy thrusts against the nearest warm body? "Want you."

Steve considers, pressing his hand to the skin just above Sam's hip and slowly pushing it up his chest. It's nice, the pressure of it. Once he reaches his shoulder he pushes, manhandling him a little until Sam's on his other side and Steve can crowd up against his back and press a kiss to his bicep. "Tell me about it while I fuck you? Nice and slow."

That would require him to make sense of the fragmentary images, but he can't say no to Steve, not in bed like this. He starts sorting through them as the warmth disappears from his back for a moment. When it returns he can hear Steve opening the lube; a moment later slick fingers are sliding between his cheeks to seek out his hole and he huffs a little sigh of pleasure. Steve makes a questioning noise and he remembers, suddenly, that he's supposed to be telling him about the dream. "Sorry, just trying to put it all together. Ah— that's good."

Steve isn't wasting any time, two fingers inside him already. It's not a problem, he's always relaxed first thing in the morning, and he can feel Steve smiling against the curve of his shoulder. "Well. Was I there?"

"Always. Obviously." He laughs a bit, leaning back against Steve and letting his eyes droop closed. "And Bucky."

The fingers stop their extremely pleasant push-pull-twist-rub, and for a moment he's afraid he's killed the mood until he feels a tiny, abortive thrust that grinds Steve's dick against the bottom of his ass. Okay. Okay, that's good, because he's remembering more now, enough to remind him that Steve always has the best ideas, and if the idea of Bucky joining them is a hard line then narrating the rest of his dream is gonna be a problem. " _Really_?" Steve asks, and _yeah_ , that tone in his voice is definitely doing things for Sam. Almost as much as the steady thrusting of his fingers. "What were we doing… with Bucky?" The last two words are punctuated by a third finger and Sam groans, pushing back onto them encouragingly.

"It's more… what you and Bucky were doing with me. Dunno if I was tied up or not. Sometimes yeah, sometimes not, you know? But I wasn't s'posed to touch." Touch himself, he means, and just the thought makes him intensely aware of the weight of his cock, resting hard against his thigh. He flattens his hand on the mattress next to him, resisting the urge to palm it and squeeze a little. As if in reward, Steve twists his fingers a final time before withdrawing them, and even knowing what's coming Sam shifts impatiently, discontent with the emptiness. He can feel the huff of Steve's breathing heavy on the back of his neck and the movement of his arm behind him, slicking himself up, and pulls his leg up slightly to give him more room.

And then finally (maybe five minutes since he woke, yeah, but he's been ready for it, would have just rubbed off against Steve until he came if he hadn't wanted to get fucked more) he feels Steve's dick nudging against his ass, pressing into him, and he has to take a moment to breathe through the insistent push as Steve murmurs filthy things into his ear. The stretch, the heat, is so good, and a little whine escapes the back of his throat as Steve drags his hips back until he's fully seated in him. They pause, then, a few beats before Steve thrusts forward just a little bit further. "Tied up sounds promising," he says; pulls halfway out; presses in again, just as slow and filthy as promised. Sam twists his head to give him an interested look at the statement, and Steve leans over him for a kiss. 

The angle's awkward. Sam doesn't care. The arm wrapped around him, the heat of Steve's body against his back, the stretch of his muscles around Steve's cock more than make up for it. _God._ "Yeah," he breathes, not entirely sure whether it's agreement or just plain old positive reinforcement, because he really wants Steve to keep doing what he's doing.

Right. He'd been in the middle of something. He covers Steve's hand on his stomach with his own, tangling their fingers together and tightening a bit as the next thrust hits him in a particular way that knocks the words loose and sets them spilling from his mouth. "You were fucking me. Not— not like this, hard, just— ng. Using me. Takin' turns." He wants it harder _now_ , wants Steve to push him onto his stomach, get his knees under him and really go for it, yank Sam back onto his dick until he feels like he's splitting apart. Scrabbling back until his hand finds Steve's hip he tries to encourage him to go faster, but the man is stubborn as hell and practically immovable when he wants to be. All he can really do is groan in frustration, which just makes Steve laugh.

He'd be annoyed if he wasn't so fucking hot right now. This is seriously doing it for him though, words tumbling out of his mouth as he imagines the things Steve and Bucky might do to him and the sex itself rolling in waves through him like a tide. "Wanna get my mouth on him." He doesn't even notice, really, that he's switched from narrative to fantasy, too wrapped up in the way Steve's hips snap forward like he's been wanting. " _Please._ "

Steve's either at the end of his rope too or feeling merciful. The next few thrusts are perfect, perfect, and Sam makes a strangled noise as he comes untouched, twisting the bottom sheet in his clenched fist; Steve barely lasts any longer. It's good like falling when he's got the wings on, poised to open up before he ever hits the ground.

For a while they lie without moving as their breathing slowly returns to normal. After a few minutes Steve carefully disentangles himself and pulls out, rolling onto his back and heaving a final satisfied sigh.

He waits until Sam's found a more comfortable position before turning to look at him again. "Bucky?"

Sam just buries his face in the pillow. "Man, shut up. Dude's jacked." It comes out muffled, which is, he hopes, a good indication that his blush is well hidden.


End file.
